


The Art of Making Do

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 16:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: Phryne and Jack try to figure out what 'making do' with each other really means. Set at the end of Murder and Mozzarella.





	The Art of Making Do

**Author's Note:**

> I sat on this too long as an unfinished WIP. But since I submitted one of this month's quotes I wanted to write for it, and have run out of time! I had to get it out today to meet the challenge. Forgive me. It's a bit of a mess!
> 
> Quote prompt:
> 
> “She resented the way in which he walked in and out of her mind as if it was his own flat.” Dorothy L. Sayers, Gaudy Night

They hadn’t even finished the wine he’d brought so she couldn’t blame that for her current state of intoxication. She suspected it had more to do with the fact that they’d finally broken through all the noise and had gotten down to what was important.

That, and his kisses.

 _Make do, my arse_ , she thought as she relished in the taste of his eager mouth and the heat of his body pressed insistently against hers. If this was ‘settling’ she couldn’t imagine what obtaining the ideal was supposed to feel like.

He pulled away, clearing his throat and smiling a little shyly at having gotten so carried away. He really should have known by now that she didn’t mind in the least. In fact, she’d rather he got a bit more carried away, perhaps swept all the way up to her bed.

He refilled her glass, clearly trying to turn the moment to something a bit less carnal. Always the noble one, her Jack.

“This is a lovely wine,” she said, obediently playing along. She’d only just got him here, she didn’t want to scare him away.

“Stano’s has a very good cellar,” he remarked automatically, then pulled himself up short looking a bit like he’d swallowed a bug.

“It’s all right, Jack!” she laughed. “I already had my suspicions as to where it came from.”

“Not very gentlemanly of me to confirm it,” he said, “but it was only a thank you.”

“Only that?”

Her lips curled and she raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He looked down and blushed slightly. Suddenly her blithe question carried an unwelcome weight and she felt an odd roiling in her stomach.

“Jack. When you told me that Concetta was an ‘old friend,’ you were just goading me, weren’t you?”

“Yes. It was childish of me and I’m sorry for that.”

“So, you and she never...”

“Never.”

She was a little surprised by how very relieved she felt at his words. Why should his past matter? He was here now.

She should drop this line of inquire but found she still had a few thorny questions pricking at the back of her mind.

“Why not?” She asked.

“Why not?”

“Yes. Why not?”

“Lots of reasons,” he said, impatiently. “Why are we talking about this?”

“I suppose I’m curious.”

“Well, could we change the subject?”

“We could, but how likely is that? Once I’ve pulled a thread...”

“You won’t stop until you see it through to the unraveling,” he finished for her. He sighed and refilled his own glass. “I’m an open book, Phryne.”

“Hardly. Sometimes I feel I’ve barely turned a page!”

She’d only just begun to think she finally had him pegged when the events of this past week threw her into confusion. As worrisome as that had been, it had also been intriguing. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him she preferred a never-ending source of mystery—but at the moment the never ending part was less appealing.

“Fine. What is it you want to know?” he asked, giving her leave to begin her interrogation.

“So very much, Jack,” she said, earnestly.

“Can we take the questions one at time?”

“As you wish.” She faced him, pulling one leg up under her bottom. “So, not Concetta.”

“As I said.”

“Not anyone?”

“Are you asking if there’s ever been anyone ever? That covers a lot of time and territory and talking about myself isn’t how I was hoping to spend this evening.”

“You needn’t go back to adolescence,” she said, “and I already know about Rosie.”

“My ex-wife? Yes, I think you can safely include her in whatever tally you're making,” he said sarcastically.

She wrinkled her nose at him in irritation but honestly, he was rather cute when peeved.

“Have there been others?” she asked, undaunted. “Others since Rosie?”

He paused for the briefest moment before calmly answering.

“Yes,” he said.

“Really?” This was interesting. “But not Concetta? Why? She clearly cared for you.”

“Well. I wasn’t always aware of her feelings for me and besides, she’s a Catholic and was only recently widowed when we met.”

“And you were still married.”

He tilted his head, his eyes skittering away from hers, and made no comment to affirm or deny.

“Was that not an issue?” She said, her voice rising in pitch as she narrowed her eyes at him, watching him closely. This was getting more intriguing by the minute.

“Rosie and I were living apart for quite some time.”

“Jack Robinson! You told me that a marriage was still a marriage!” she accused, slapping his thigh.

She was recalling a conversation from quite some time ago but it only took him a moment to remember it and catch up to her thinking.

“We were talking about an affair of the heart then!” He defended.

“And what are we talking about now?”

He took a large gulp of wine and set the glass down, wringing his hands and looking anywhere but at her. He reminded her of another moment from their past. The morning after his stolen kiss at Cafe Replique.

She sat back and folded her arms across her chest, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“As I said, Rosie and I were apart and—well, it can be difficult being alone.”

“Of course.”

“We turned to each other on occasion but that got complicated and we knew it had to stop.” He glanced up at her very briefly, unable to hold her eye.

He looked so uncomfortable and her stomach had started fluttering again. She thought perhaps she should put a stop to this line of inquiry. The more she heard the more she realized that she was woefully ignorant about his personal life and she was beginning to think that ignorance really was bliss.

She didn’t fully understand the way she was feeling, and she didn’t like it, but the part of her that always needed to get to the bottom of things won out.

“So you turned to others,” she said. Even to her own ears, and despite her best intentions, the remark had what might be considered a disapproving edge to it. Clearly he thought so, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“I’d expect you, of all people, to understand this,” he said, defensively, “if both parties agree to the perimeters of the event, to a mutually satisfying encounter of limited involvement—”

“Stop, Jack. You make is sound so romantic. I might swoon,” she said. What she’d meant as light-hearted and joking, had come out bitter and she didn’t understand what had come over her.

“I’m just saying that I didn’t mislead anyone,” he said. “Are you angry with me, Phryne?”

“No. Of course not,” she said.

“I’ve disappointed you,” he said.

“No. Not at all, I’m just surprised is all. I hadn’t thought you were the type.”

“What type is that?” His jaw clenched as he seemed to struggle between shame and anger.

“The type that can be so casual about it all. To so easily forget and move on.”

She nearly clapped her hand over her lips, stunned that those words had escaped them. What a hypocrite she was! What he was describing was something she’d believed and engaged in her entire adult life. Was what was good for the goose not also good for the gander? He looked as though she’d slapped him and she wanted for all the world to take it back.

“Do you forget them?” He asked, sharply.

“What?”

“The men that come to your bed? The encounter I described was casual, not meaningless,” he said.

“Of course,” she said, feeling thoroughly chastised. “I didn’t mean to imply...”

“You did.”

“I’m sorry, Jack. I really didn’t—I don’t know what’s come over me.”

A tense silence fell. She wished they could go back to five minutes ago when she was in his arms and he was kissing her. Before these thoughts—and let’s face it—images of him with other women had taken hold.

“I’m not the man you thought I was,” he said. His obvious devastation broke her heart.

"No! That’s not true, Jack! Honestly. I don’t know why I’m behaving this way!”

“I so want to please you, Phryne, and I don’t know how!”

“You do please me! Oh, God, Jack. Forgive me? I’ve been unfair.” She laid her hand on his knee and to her relief he grasped on to it as if holding a lifeline. “Let’s forget I started this.”

“I’d like to but I don’t think sweeping things under the rug has worked so well for us in the past.”

“You have a point, there,” she conceded, “but really, I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“I want to be honest with you. I want us to be honest with each other.”

“I want that too and I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel punished for doing just that. I didn’t mean to. I’m just surprised because—well, with me you’ve been—”

“Remarkably restrained?” he said, a small smile returning to his face.

“Exactly.”

“It wasn’t easy. And, as you may recall, I did tell you I wasn’t always noble.”

He reached out to stroke her cheek, his eyes were soft and filled with a longing that had her butterflies back but for an entirely different reason.

“Yes, you did,” she said, remembering how close they’d come to making it up to her room that night.

They’d been even closer ten minutes ago. She should send these other women she’d let into the room on their way and get back to kissing him. He edged closer then stopped, waiting for her to bridge the gap. She bit her lip and her leg began bouncing nervously. If there were other women after his marriage, possibly during the time she’d known him, then why not her? Why the restraint? She couldn’t stop her tongue.

“How often?” She asked.

“Sorry?”

“How often were you less than noble?”

“I thought we were dropping this. Are you really asking me how many women there have been?”

“No! Well, yes. I guess I am. I’m not asking for names. Just a number.”

“Oh, well, that’s reasonable then,” he said, sarcastically. “It’s not really any of your business, Phryne.”

“No, but tell me anyway. At least put me in the ballpark.”

“It’s hardly a ballpark,” he mumbled. “Do you really need to know?”

“Apparently I do.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head.

“I’m not comfortable with this conversation. Let’s just say you could count them on one hand with room to spare.”

“So, less than five.”

“Your math is excellent. Look, I’m not proud of it but it happened and I won’t waste time regretting it.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m sorry if I’ve implied any disapproval. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“That’s not entirely true. I was still married. I’d made vows.”

“She left you.”

“We left each other.”

“The point is you were no longer living as man and wife.”

“No, and while it doesn’t really excuse it, it was shortly after I realized that it really was over and that Rosie wasn’t ever coming back.”

“Are you saying there was just the one?”

“Yes. As I said, I’d just realized my marriage was truly over. I went away for a few days so that Rosie could clear out her things from our home. I met a woman. She’d lost her husband in the war and it was a small town.”

“So she welcomed a little ‘companionship’ however brief?”

“Something like that. It lasted less than a week and that’s the whole of it. Can we please put this behind us now?”

“One woman. And not one since? Not even after the divorce was finalized?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

If she thought he looked uncomfortable before, it was nothing to his expression now.

“You’re an attractive man. Surely you had opportunity,” she pushed. She knew damn well he’d had opportunity. In fact she’d been prepared to provide it on more than one occasion.

“There’s been no one since the divorce because by then there was only one woman I wanted. And it wasn’t a casual desire.”

She heard her own sharp intake of breath and she knew he did too. She imagined he could also hear the deafening drumbeat of her heart but the one thing he couldn’t hear was her voice. She seemed to have lost the ability to use it. Her mouth hung open vainly and all she could do was shake her head.

He stood abruptly and moved away to the fireplace, pressing his hands onto the mantle, his head falling forward, his shoulders slumping.

“I was more afraid to tell you that than anything else tonight. Afraid of just that reaction from you.”

“Jack—”

 “I know you thought you understood the way I feel for you, Phryne,” he said. “I know you thought you could manage—make do—but the blunt reality of it is a little harder to accept, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got it wrong, Jack,” she managed to say. “Well, you’re right about my not having fully understood this, but you’re wrong about the rest. The only thing that’s hard for me to accept is that I didn’t realize this sooner.”

He turned to face her, his expression that of one expecting a death blow. She was finding it hard to speak over the lump in her throat and tried to give him a reassuring smile. It didn’t seem to do the trick.

Of all the times for him to be so obtuse! Normally, she resented the way in which he walked in and out of her mind as if it were his own flat but now, when she needed him to, he couldn’t find the key!

“I don’t mind,” she said, finally. “I don’t mind that you want only me. I think I knew that already. What I find odd is that I actually prefer it and that makes me feel like a hypocrite.”

“Because you can’t say the same.”

“That's not what I mean. It’s complicated. I want you Jack. I want us to be together. I don’t see anyone coming along to change that but I can’t make any guarantees.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“It wouldn’t bother you if there were to be someone else?”

“I know who you are and what I’m venturing into, but of course it will bother me. I’m in love with you, Phryne.”

“Good. Because I really didn’t like the idea of you with anyone else either.”

“What are you saying?”

“That I’m in love with you, too, Jack and I want to give this a try. Just the two of us.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Yes. You’ll need to be patient with me. I don’t intend to change my life entirely. Don't expect me to suddenly start staying in of an evening and taking up knitting, but if it means I get you in my bed, then I don’t think I’ll be needing anyone else.”

“You want me in your bed,” he said, as though he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Obviously, Jack! But, if we’re going to try this, I want you all to myself too.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem, Miss Fisher.”

“Well," she exclaimed, feeling hugely relieved. "Now that we've got that settled, where were we?”

“Too far from the bedroom,” he said.


End file.
